


Porn Night

by who_la_hoop



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: daily_deviant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-29
Updated: 2008-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-05 12:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_la_hoop/pseuds/who_la_hoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was an invisible line they didn't cross – they didn't touch each other while they did it, and they never – ever – treated it as anything more than a light-hearted competition. Hence the rulers and the Penis Games, and the fact that Seamus had constructed a Winner's Cup out of wadded (but clean) tissues and rubber bands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Porn Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Daily_Deviant, for the theme of m/m fellatio.

Saturday night in the Gryffindor tower had become, by common agreement, porn night. "After all," Seamus had said, grinning widely and nudging Dean, "we're healthy, virile eighteen year olds. What else are we going to do on a Saturday night if we're not pounding into a hot bird, who's totally gagging for it?" There wasn't much that could be said to that, Harry thought, given that out of the five of them, if one of them had a date for Saturday night it was a rare thing. (And even then, he thought, the chance of _pounding into a hot bird_, rather than blushing into a glass of something alcoholic and trying to think of something to say, was practically nil).

It had become, to Harry's surprise, something that was more of a torment than a turn-on. When he'd been dating Ginny he'd been pretty clueless about stuff, he had to admit. He'd had a hazy idea of what went where, and what might feel nice, but they'd never got any further than kissing. Of this, he was very, _very_ glad.

Because, and though he didn't want to admit it – and really, how _did_ you go about slipping it into general conversation? – girls just didn't turn him on. He'd tried, he really had. Each week he'd tried a little harder to get, well, _hard_. They had a stash of wank material in their dorm room now – everything from Muggle mags to wizarding charms that projected 3D moving pictures onto the wall, and then some. The female body was a mystery to him no longer – and the more he saw of it, chests and crotches exposed for the gratification of the viewer – the more it bored him.

This, Harry thought, was definitely wrong. There were things that were supposed to be boring – History of Magic lessons, for instance, or queuing up for things. Looking at a girl without her clothes on was _not_ supposed to go in that category. But that wasn't so much the problem. The problem was Ron.

Because, quite frankly, there were things you were meant to feel for your best mate – blokey, macho things, entirely free from thoughts of sex - and things you weren't. Like, you weren't supposed to wonder what licking the hollow at the base of his throat would taste like. That was definitely off limits. And you probably shouldn't wonder what sort of face he'd pull when he came, or if he'd like to be tied to the bedposts with his own school scarf.

On the whole, Harry thought he did a good job of thinking the blokey, matey things. He'd always thought those things – particularly before the war. But now, with Porn Night as a regular thing each week, the _other_ things kept, well, crossing his mind. Because, quite frankly, Porn Night had taken on a life of its own and Harry was losing his marbles a bit more each week.

*****

 

Ron spread out his haul on the carpet, before grabbing his pillow and duvet from his bed and bundling them on the floor. He sat down in a sprawl, rubbing a hand through his hair and grinning. "Pass the Ogden's," he said, waving his hand at Dean, who obliged. Ron took a swig and pulled a face. He looked at the label more closely. "_New_ Ogden's?" he asked.

Dean laughed, dropping to the floor beside him and reaching for a sweet from the pile in front of Ron. "It's all I could afford," he said. "Don't worry, it's got exactly the same alcohol content as the proper stuff."

Ron rolled his eyes but took another swig, passing it over to Harry.

Harry took a welcome swallow. It was already looking like it was going to be a long night. Seamus and Neville would be back soon – they'd been sent, for all things, on a hunt for Muggle plastic rulers and a ball of string. Harry had a pretty good idea what the rulers could be for – but he was trying not to speculate about the string.

Because the thing was – the thing that made Harry's insides shift, in a way that was both unpleasant and welcome – was that Porn Night had recently evolved into something rather more interactive in theme. It wasn't just that it now had added snacks – although eating whilst 'constructively criticising' the porn was a welcome distraction from pressing matters in the region of his pyjama bottoms. It now also had added _competition_. Competition in the arenas of length, aim and – well - distance. Ron kept threatening to make certificates.

It wasn't so much that Harry wasn't used to the idea of the other boys in the dormitory naked – or even having a wank. He'd lived with them for years, and it was a rare night that they all went to sleep in silence. He could, in fact, identify his roommates by the individual grunts and moans they made. They'd never bothered with silencing charms. After all, they all did it, and it was dark, so what was the point? And it wasn't as if any of them were especially shy when they got dressed – they didn't wave it about, so to speak, but Harry'd seen the cocks of all his fellow Gryffindor eighth years, without even trying.

The issue was that they'd never before made such a – a - _performance_ of it. They'd moved from watching porn and escaping to the bathroom to have a quiet, solo wank when the mood took them, to – well. There was an invisible line they didn't cross – they didn't touch each other while they did it, and they never – ever – treated it as anything more than a light-hearted competition. Hence the rulers and the Penis Games, and the fact that Seamus had constructed a Winner's Cup out of wadded (but clean) tissues and rubber bands.

Harry took another swig out of the bottle of knock-off Ogden's whisky and passed it back to Dean, who smirked. "Where the hell are the other guys?" Dean asked, looking at the clock.

Ron wiped his mouth – there was a smear of chocolate at the corner – and shrugged. "Dunno," he said. He grinned. "So, what's on the menu for tonight?"

Dean grinned back. "Cock Eaters 4," he said, without even going red. "Seamus managed to work out how to get a Muggle TV working at long last. Two hours of hot blonds with their mouths full. Should be great."

Ron went rather red in the face, and made a noise that was possibly "phwoar".

Harry felt like he should add something to the conversation. "Er, great," he said, and then panicked because he hadn't sounded nearly as enthusiastic as he'd intended. Although, perhaps if he pretended that _he_ was the guy getting his dick sucked, and that Ron was doing the…

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked, chucking a Chocolate Frog at him. "You've gone a funny colour."

Harry tried not to die. Ron had a smear of chocolate at the corner of his mouth, and…

"Wotcha!" Seamus said, as he and Neville entered, laden down with bags. "We brought more booze. Couldn't find the string though," he said, gloomily. "Still, we can save it for next time, lads."

Harry tried very hard not to look at Ron. He wondered if he'd gone completely insane. Porn Night had _driven_ him insane, he thought. It wasn't right, getting to see his mate Ron's face as he pumped himself to hardness. And it certainly wasn't right to have to hold a ruler up against Ron's cock, trying very hard not to notice the glistening bead of liquid at the tip.

He could take or leave Dean's cock. Seamus' did nothing for him. Being up close to Neville's didn't move him – and he'd held up a ruler to all three, in the interests of impartial judging, according to Seamus (who was taking things a bit too seriously, Harry thought). So why the hell did Ron's bring a sheen of sweat to his brow?

Harry bit into the Chocolate Frog in his hand and tried not to stress out. A few more hours and it would all be over for another week.

*****

 

Harry stared at the woman in the porno. She had very large breasts, that looked fake and stuck on. He stared at her very hard, because the alternative was looking around, and that would inevitably lead to looking at Ron. She was bobbing her head up and down and appeared pretty bored, if truth be told, despite the enormous cut penis in her mouth.

The other boys were making determined 'yeah' and 'woah' noises, in between slurps of alcohol and handfuls of crisps.

And then something dreadful happened. Really, really dreadful. Seamus said something – the sort of thing that, once said, can never be unsaid. The sort of thing that – that - _ruins lives_ and _blights existences_, Harry thought.

"So, lads, ever had someone suck you off?" Seamus asked.

Harry stared at him – he couldn't help it. The question could lead nowhere good – nowhere good at all. Seamus looked a bit embarrassed, but he shrugged. "Just asking."

"Er, no," Harry said, feeling all eyes on him. He winced and wished that occasionally he could find the strength to lie about stuff. There were mutters of agreement from – fucking hell – all the other boys.

"_No-one's_ had their cock sucked?" Seamus snorted.

"You didn't answer your own question," Dean muttered. "What about you?"

Seamus went a bit pink in the face. "No, me neither," he admitted.

There was silence for some time – the sort of silence that only follows the confession that, between the five of them, not one had managed to get to third base with a real-live woman. An embarrassed silence. Although there wasn't silence, not really, because the porno babe was slurping away, and the bloke she was sucking was making masculine grunts.

"Looks like it'd be nice though," Neville murmured after some time, his cheeks scarlet.

There was some more silence while they all thought about that, and the alcohol was passed round at a quick pace.

"I reckon," Seamus said thoughtfully, and spread his legs a bit wider, his pyjama bottoms tenting at the crotch, "that that's a bit pathetic. You know, none of us having any experience in that area, whatsoever."

"Oh, fuck off," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"No, really," Seamus insisted, "it is."

"It's not like we can do anything about it right now," Dean replied.

There was another silence, this time a bit more loaded. Harry dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands and prayed to any deity that might be listening that the evening wasn't headed where he thought it might be headed.

Measuring each other's cocks was one thing. Sucking each other off – even in the name of platonic experimentation – was quite another.

Ron cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him. Harry couldn't help himself. Ron was sprawled on his duvet, propped up by pillows. The bagginess of his pyjama bottoms didn't conceal his stiffie one bit. "Er," Ron said, going rather red. "We could, I suppose."

No-one said anything. Harry looked around. Neville was open-mouthed, staring at Ron, and Dean and Seamus glanced at each other, very quickly, before looking away.

A bright idea came to Harry. A brilliant reason why the mad, insane, ridiculous idea that they were thinking – but none of them saying – couldn't be done. "Er, we're not an even number," he mumbled. "Someone'd be left out."

He could feel them all turn to look at him – Ron's gaze burning into the side of his head – but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the floor in front of him.

"Could draw lots," Seamus said, nonchalantly. "Then at least one of us could have a go. Tell the others what it's like, kind of thing."

There was a further silence, during which the whisky bottle got a bit more action.

"Yeah, why not," Dean said suddenly. "I'm up for it. Guys?"

Neville nodded, very quickly, his face practically puce coloured.

That left Ron and Harry.

"What'd you think, mate?" Ron said, turning towards him.

Harry shrugged, trying not to panic and run away very fast. He was calculating the odds in his mind, but not getting very far. He'd be okay, he reasoned, if he didn't have to be actively involved. He even might be okay if he had to be involved, but not with… not with a certain red-haired best mate of his. He took a deep breath. The odds were on his side, surely?

Ron obviously took his shrug as agreement. "Yeah, okay," he said, turning back to Seamus. "This is nuts, but okay."

Seamus grinned and reached for his quill and some paper. "I can't believe we're doing this. Shit, we really need to find some women."

Harry couldn't agree more. Except for the last bit. And that was the bit that worried him, more than anything. Except for the prospect of Ron's mouth around his cock, with the others all watching.

That worried him a bit too.

*****

 

It was with a sense of gloom and inevitability that Harry unwrapped the piece of paper in his hand to discover that – yes – he was going to be an active participant in the evening's entertainment. Sod's law was that Ron would be the other. He watched Ron's face as he unwrapped his own piece of paper. Ron's eyes widened for a moment, and his cheeks went the same colour as his hair.

He looked over at Harry, very quickly, and mouthed _shit_. Harry held up the piece of paper in his hand – the very _not blank_ piece of paper, and Ron's expression flickered between disbelief and something that made Harry's insides tie themselves up in knots.

Harry looked at Ron's crotch – he couldn't _help_ it, it wasn't _his_ fault. The material was damp where Ron's cock strained against it. He looked away, very quickly. It wasn't right, it really wasn't right. Ron was his friend, for fuck's sake!

"Right," Ron said, "okay. Er."

Harry agreed completely.

Seamus smirked, very hard. "Well get on with it then, lads. We don't have all night."

"Yeah, we're ready to live vicariously through your experiences," Dean grinned, whacking Seamus on the shoulder.

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Vicariously? Did you swallow a dictionary?"

"Swallow?" Dean said, and almost had hysterics. "Swallow!"

Seamus gave him a shove and Dean shoved back, before they grinned at each other and turned expectantly towards Harry.

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to," Neville said, taking a swallow of booze. "Just ignore them."

Harry looked at Ron. Ron looked back. Harry didn't say anything. He noticed – very, very much – that Ron wasn't saying anything either. The idea that Ron wasn't saying anything, wasn't running screaming from him, was the biggest relief – and the most terrifying thing ever. Because if Ron wasn't running screaming, and wasn't saying a plain, firm "no", then he, Harry would have to go ahead. Would have to pull down Ron's pyjama bottoms – his best mate's pyjama bottoms – and take his best mate's cock in his mouth.

Harry felt his _own_ pyjama bottoms tighten around the crotch at that thought. _Shit_.

"Er, shall we?" Ron mumbled, not looking Harry in the eye.

"Um, you should, er," Harry said, very succinctly, motioning towards the bed behind Ron's back. Ron's bed. The bed on which Ron slept each night. His _best mate_ Ron.

Ron looked panicked for a moment, then rose – to cheers from the other boys – and perched himself on the very edge of it. He grabbed his wand and cast a quick cleaning spell on himself, his cheeks flaming.

Harry looked at him – very red in the face and very not running away – and considered his options. There were two, as far as he could see. One: run away and die, or two: go down on his best friend, and pretend it wasn't as much of a _total fucking turn-on_ as it actually was.

Ron grinned at him. It was a smaller grin than usual, and a nervous one, but it sealed the deal where Harry was concerned. He'd do it. He didn't have a real choice in the matter it seemed.

*****

 

When Harry reached the side of the bed, Ron's face was many different kinds of purple. It was almost impressive, he thought, trying not to freak about what he was about to do.

"Mate, you really don't have to do this," Ron said. "Of course, I won't say no if you _do_ want," he continued, one side of his mouth quirking up into a grin. "That would make me an idiot."

"You _are_ an idiot," Harry replied, running a hand through his hair, and wondering if it was sticking up in stupid tufts like usual.

"Hey!" Ron complained, his grin widening, "I don't hold your idiocy against _you_, so it's hardly fair if you hold mine against me."

Harry laughed and then, his heart beating double time, placed his hand on Ron's chest and gently pushed him backwards.

Ron's grin faded and his lips parted, very slightly. He wriggled around so he was lying full on his back, propping his head up with a couple of pillows.

The room was quiet now. The porn star had finished sucking, and the video had ended. Quiet, that is, except for the chink of the whisky bottle against glass, as Seamus poured out several large measures for himself, Dean and Neville.

Harry thought he'd better get on with it, before he made a complete tit of himself, so he got on the bed, straddled his best mate in the whole world, and…

"Hang on," Ron said, smiling very bashfully at Harry.

Harry tried not to panic. But then – fucking, fucking hell – Ron strained to half sit up, tugging his t-shirt over his head and chucking it aside. Ron lay back down, his eyes fluttering shut.

Harry wanted to kill Ron. He wanted to kill him dead – very, _very_ dead. Because then he, Harry, wouldn't have to deal with the idea that Ron was clearly planning to enjoy himself, despite the fact that it was _all wrong_, and when Harry pulled down Ron's pj bottoms then Ron would be completely bollock naked.

But it was too late to back out – why, he didn't know, he just knew that it was – so he hooked his fingers under the waistband of Ron's trousers and tugged them down. Ron's feet worked, and he pushed them off his ankles, kicking them off the bed.

Ron's cock was… looking at Harry, it fucking was, all hard and reddened and _right in front of him_. And the others would all be looking at him. Looking at him looking at his best mate's cock.

Not sure what to do next – it seemed like rushing things to just, you know, dive in – he ran his fingernails up the inside of Ron's thighs. Not hard, but with a bit of pressure. He wasn't sure what he expected, but Ron jerked and bit off the word _fuck_, his fingers clenching in the sheets.

Harry tried very hard not to spontaneously combust. He glanced, very quickly, at the three boys watching. They were watching, all right. Eyes glued to the bed, and hands – well. Neville had the heel of his right hand pressing, very hard, against his crotch and the other two weren't much better.

Harry turned back to Ron and ran his fingers, very softly, across Ron's stomach and down, tangling through Ron's shock of ginger pubes. The porn stars – the women in the video – had gone straight to it, deep-throating like there was nothing else that might feel nice, if you had your face in someone's crotch. Harry felt a bit perverse for thinking it, but he thought – damn it – that since this was the only time he _would_ ever have free rein to play with Ron's bits, he might as well enjoy it. If Seamus awarded him with a cup for Biggest Gay Boy in the Gryffindor Dorm then so be it. He'd have to deal with that later. Besides, he had a sneaking suspicion that, since the thought of wrapping his lips around Ron's cock was nerve-wracking in a bloody good way, rather than making him want to chuck up, he might deserve that particular award.

Harry pushed Ron's legs apart, and Ron let him, without a murmur. He made a murmur though when Harry licked a trail up the inside of his thigh – a kind of muttered _ohgodohgod_ that made Harry's insides flip. He repeated the experiment with the other thigh and got a similar response. It made him wonder if… Dare he? He gave Ron's balls a tentative lick. Ron gasped, and Harry thought that was a good sign, so he did it again. He took another long, wet lick, and then another. Ron was breathing very heavily now, making little mewls whenever Harry's tongue touched him. When Harry added his fingers to the mix he made an almost sob, his hips rising off the bed and his legs widening as far as they could go.

Harry, wondering if he'd gone completely mad, pulled back and tugged at Ron, indicating that he should roll over. Ron complied without a question, almost scrambling to do as asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly as Harry positioned him onto all fours.

Ron's arse was very pale, and dotted with freckles. Harry hoped that what he was about to do would be nice for both of them. This wasn't remotely in the terms of their basic agreement – one blowjob, one orgasm, one after-blowjob report for the other buggers who didn't get to join in. Taking a deep breath he pushed Ron's cheeks apart and kissed him, very quickly, just inside the crease. Ron held his breath. Harry, feeling incredibly nervous, did it again, poking his tongue out just a bit to lick a line closer to the pucker of Ron's anus.

Ron moved, almost imperceptibly, pushing his arse closer to Harry's face. Harry almost sighed with relief, taking a few licks, moving closer in. After a couple of minutes he took hold of his courage and, hands firm on Ron's arse, licked a ring around the pucker of Ron's anus with the tip of his tongue. Ron swore, very loudly.

Harry stopped dead, his heart pounding. He'd gone too far. Oh Merlin, he'd gone too far and…

Ron cleared his throat. "Mate," he said, very hoarsely. Then, "Harry. _Please_."

Harry wanted to be clear. He thought that that was positive feedback, but he wanted to be clear. "Shall I, er, stop?" he mumbled.

Ron laughed, very shakily. "Don't you fucking _dare_."

Harry swallowed hard and got back to work. He swirled his tongue round and round before taking a long, wet lick down the entire line of Ron's arse.

Ron… Well. Ron _whimpered_. Harry had never made anyone whimper before, and certainly not Ron of all people, so he did it again. Ron tasted slightly of salt and slightly of soap, with an intriguing undertone of musky maleness.

Harry drew back for a moment to enjoy the view. Ron's arsehole was twitching, his balls red and hanging high and tight. A rope of come swung from the head of his swollen cock. Ron made a needy sound and Harry applied his tongue once more, sliding it back and forth over the twitching pucker. He started to get a rhythm going. It was wet and weird and his face was soon sweaty and hot. But Ron was groaning softly, his body shaking. His hips bucked, pushing back against Harry's tongue.

Harry could hear, in the background, a litany of familiar sounds. The familiar sounds of Dean, Seamus and Neville wanking. They were _wanking_. While they _watched Harry lick Ron's arsehole_.

Harry could feel the alcohol in his system. He felt warm and bold – and Ron was so, well, _Ron_. So on his next lick he pointed his tongue and _pressed_, breaching the ring of muscle for just a few seconds. Ron made a sharp noise and clenched his muscles.

Something – probably the booze, he suspected – prompted Harry to murmur "relax", and press a kiss to Ron's backside.

Ron made a noise that was half a laugh and half a snort. He took a very deep breath. "Yeah," he said. He sounded embarrassed. "This is a bit weird. But good weird," he added, very quickly. "In fact—"

Harry flicked his tongue over Ron's arse again, pressing it inside.

"Merlin's balls," Ron gasped, "it feels fucking—"

Harry repeated the movement, pressing a little deeper.

"_Brilliant_," Ron finished, before he apparently lost the ability to frame a coherent sentence.

Harry pulled away very briefly, spitting in his hand and reaching round to slick up Ron's cock. He pressed his tongue back to Ron's arsehole, dipping it in and out as he slid his fingers up and down Ron's shaft.

Ron tried to say something, stammering and gasping, one hand coming down to bat away Harry's own. Harry stopped, pulling away. "On, er, your back," he mumbled.

Ron took a very deep breath and turned, carefully not looking Harry in the eye. He flopped down on the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His skin was flushed and damp with sweat. His cock looked angry, red and damp.

Harry bent down and took a long lick. Ron gasped for breath, his hips lifting up. Harry took another lick, holding Ron down. He had a distinct taste. Not nice, but not unpleasant either. Harry took Ron's cock – his _best mate's_ cock in his mouth. He sucked tentatively, not quite sure of himself.

He moved his mouth up and down a few times, encouraged by the noises Ron was making. He looked along Ron's body to his face. His eyes were screwed tight and his mouth was open, head thrown back and neck stretched taut. One hand was screwed tight in the sheets, holding on for dear life. The other twitched by his side and then, to Harry's surprise, moved. Ron groped for Harry's head, winding his fingers into Harry's hair. Ron's eyes were still tight shut, but his touch was both possessive and tender.

Harry moved for a few minutes, sliding his mouth up and down Ron's cock. Ron was practically hyperventilating, his whole body twitching and juddering.

Then Seamus – Harry knew it was Seamus, just from the noises – came with a groan. "That looks… that looks _good_," Seamus said, clearing his throat. "Just saying."

"Oh God, yeah," Neville agreed, his breath hitching. There was a grunt of agreement from Dean.

Harry looked up to see Ron, his face absolutely flaming and his eyes wide, watching him. He didn't look away. Ron's fingers tightened in his hair and his thighs began to shake, almost uncontrollably. His hips worked and Harry had to pin him down to prevent himself from being choked. Ron started to mumble a string of obscenities, his eyes still locked on Harry's own. Then he went _ohgodohgodohgod_, and came with Harry's name on his lips.

Harry wrung the last of Ron's orgasm out of him and sat up, swallowing. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His own cock was so hard it hurt, but he could almost ignore that right now. A quick glance at the other boys showed red faces and very damp pyjama bottoms. Ron was breathing very hard, not looking at Harry. After a moment he sat up and, not saying anything, reached over Harry and drew the curtains around his bed.

"That was—" Ron said, not looking at Harry. "That was---"

"Yeah," Harry said, not sure what he was agreeing with. He wondered if Ron would ever speak to him again. Or look at him, even.

"Fucking hell, mate, why didn't we do that sooner?" Ron asked, taking a great shuddering breath and turning to look at Harry. "You did want to, right?"

Harry nodded, not fancying speaking right at that moment.

Ron managed to grin, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "This is a new level of friendship I can't say I expected," he said.

And then he did something Harry really, really didn't expect. He leaned forwards and kissed Harry, full on the mouth.

He pulled back, looking faintly embarrassed. "You taste weird," he said.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Well, it's _your_ weird taste."

Ron's smile widened. "Yeah. I suppose it's only fair." He leaned in for another go and – Harry's hands tightened around Ron's shoulders – pushed a hand down the front of Harry's pyjama bottoms.

Harry knew he was about to be embarrassed. But he couldn't help it. He had to come and he had to come now. That was _Ron's hand_ around his cock, after all. After all the things he'd just done to Ron, he was surprised he hadn't come without even being touched.

After about a minute, Harry came into Ron's tight fist, Ron's tongue stroking his. Ron kept kissing him – kept stroking him, very gently – dragging out his orgasm until it was almost unbearable.

Finally, Ron pulled away and smiled at him, self-consciously. He was already hard again, Harry noticed. He grinned and pointed. "You should show Seamus that," he said, trying for light-hearted. "You could win a homemade trophy."

Ron grinned back, looking relieved. "Yeah, I am pretty special, aren't I?" he agreed.

Harry whacked him. It was almost like old times. Except Ron was naked. And Harry had had his tongue up Ron's arse. And every time he saw him now, he'd _remember_. They'd _both_ remember. It would certainly make lessons a bit more interesting, at least.

"Can we do that again?" Ron asked. "I don't know about you, but I thought that was even better than Quidditch. And I never thought _anything_ could be better than Quidditch. Seriously, mate. You score an Outstanding at – at what you just did, in my book."

Harry laughed. "Will you do me a certificate?"

Ron grinned at him. "Only if you sign a contract, giving me exclusive use of your body. I don't want to share you with those pervs out there again."

Harry _looked_ at him.

Ron flushed, but looked back steadily. "Well, mate? I'll even thrown in a meal out and a pint. We could do it next Saturday, if you'd like."

"We'd miss Porn Night," Harry said, trying not to grin like an idiot.

Ron laughed. "I think we could do that bit by ourselves." He shrugged, and tugged Harry towards him. "What do you think?"

Harry nodded and allowed himself to be pulled into a decidedly non-platonic hug. "I couldn't agree more."


End file.
